Romeo and a Cookie
by l0chn3ss
Summary: High School teachers au- Maka is a teacher who rose, then fell in popularity because of a mysterious incident during her first year. You all know what it is- Soul does not. He just wants to get along with one of the most hated teachers and to offer a few cookies to seal the deal.


"Page three hundred and seven. Let's pick up where we left off," Mr. Eater said with a lazy flick towards the student in the back. "I think it's Conner's turn."

The student struggled to swallow the lump in his throat. He sat in the back for a reason—to be invisible and forgotten. Yet somehow, Mr. Eater treated all of his students evenly and with the same amount of attention as he would with the students sitting in front. Conner may have been grateful any other day, but reading aloud is one of his worst skills in school, even as a freshman in high school. He couldn't quite pronounce some of the words, often glancing up at Mr. Eater who would nod encouragingly with a kind correction.

Mr. Eater was thoughtful that way, and he was the type of teacher who never got angry, never blamed the student for accidents but never took excuses as a reason. "Just try," he encouraged (and sat with his feet cross over his desk.) Everyone could relax and learn under his tuition, and although he was scary at the beginning of school, that was all appearances. The person that the school was really afraid of was Ms. A.

She never gave out her full last name—just a letter of the grade system that she expected all of her students to achieve. Legend said that she used to be someone every student wished they were closed to—that she was the sweetest and most angelic person that the school district (if not, the entire country) had to offer. She brought smoothies to class and always had snacks for hungry students.

But everything changed when personal troubles at home struck. The light in her eyes darkened and the weight on her shoulders caused her to carry burdens she wasn't ready for. Ms. A stood stiff and firm against the world now, ruling her class with an iron fist.

Mr. Eater came to the high school a few years after, experiencing the scorn of Ms. A after knocking coffee into her blazer on his way to his first day. It was history from there as Ms. A stomped on his foot and stormed into her classroom, slamming the door as best that she could with a damper foiling her dramatic exit.

"Ah Conner, we've already read that part. Please continue on the next paragraph."

He nodded shyly, turning redder while the words grew blurrier under his tunnel vision. Conner hated English class, but God almighty he was going to try through his embarrassment. If someone like him were to be picked as the voice of Romeo, he better try. And so he read on and on, pausing only during words he didn't know, which may as well have been a good sixty percent.

"She speaks, yet she says nothing. What of that? Her eye dis… discur… dis…" Conner met with Mr. Eater's eyes.

"Discourses."

"—discourses. I will answer it.—I am too bold. "Tis not to me she speaks. To the fairest starts in all the heaven, having some business, do en… entret… en… entreat?" He looked up again, though his teacher seemed distracted at something. Conner cleared his voice.

"Ah, sorry there." Mr. Eater glanced to the wall behind him. "I just couldn't seem to pay attention," his voice grew louder with every word, "because of the chaos in the room next door!"

His class looked at each other, then at him, and then at the wall. Oh god, it was happening. This is not a drill. This is happening. Ms. A's class was just literally called out by Mr. Eater _. Oh my god._

"I said: I can't pay attention to my own student's reading. Because of the noise. In the room _Next. Door!"_

A few seconds ticked by, and the sound of students had died down. But—

"Isn't that just so much better?" Mr. Eater said exasperatedly. "Now I can actually hear my kids in front of—"

"You know, I just _hate_ it when students _don't_ talk during a group project! It's almost like, like you need _words_ to collaborate!"

" _Well,_ I personally feel like there should be more _consideration_ for neighboring classes; if only _all_ of us had respect for one another!"

"A little _conversation_ and group activity is apparently a cause to get upset according to _some ineffective teachers!_ I do understand that newly hired are too _picky_ though!"

A few students' jaws dropped as they saw Mr. Eater's face grow redder and pained as the argument continued. This… never happened before. Sure Ms. A's class got a little rowdy when they were finally able to speak to one another that day, but usually, Mr. Eater just bore with it like other classrooms around.

He stood up, pushing his hands into his jean pockets as he began to pace in front of the white board. "Sometimes the newly hired still has a sense of _etiquette_ compared to the old bats who get too comfortable with their jobs!"

" _Old bats?!_ " came Ms. A's shrill response. "Mr. Eater, who is the one who is screaming at another room during class time?! Use the phone or send a note! Not try to holler through the walls with the doors closed!"

"I will yell at you even though both our doors are closed to shut up your class! Jesus Christ, Maka. They were getting too loud and you know it! Who can even teach right now?!"

"You call reading from a book _teaching,_ Soul? You think a little read-aloud-time is you teaching?! Let me tell you a little something that works in history—"

"There she goes again! Ms. A, using every chance she gets to belittle her colleagues!"

As Mr. Eater taunted her on and on, he didn't hear the clicking of heels against the floor. He certainly wasn't prepared to see his door swing open with a livid teacher, half in frustrated tears and half ready to murder him on the spot with lasers coming from her eyes. He stopped in mid word.

Ms. A approached him slowly, articulating her response with a low strained voice and tense shoulders. And Mr. Eater backed away, falling onto his rolling spinny chair as she came closer until she was looking completely down at him.

"You have no place to say the things you did," Ms. A breathed. "I get it. We were loud. Enough now."

With that, she left.

After a moment of unsettling silence, Mr. Eater muttered, "He jests at scars that never felt a wound… Anyway... Let's continue. Um… erm… Conner?"

"Oh, ok… Uh… To twinkle in their spheres till they return. What if her eyes were there, they in her head? The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars as daylight do- doth a lamp. Her eye in heaven would through the airy region stream so bright that birds would sing and think it were not night. See how she leans her cheek upon her hand. Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand that I might touch that cheek." Conner looked up at Mr. Eater who had his head on his desk this entire segment. "S-should I continue?"

He sighed, lifting his head. "No, you're fine. Let's analyze this passage."

* * *

Soul was a little early that day for lunch, too drained to stay for the last five minutes of class so he let out his kids early. He shouldn't have done it. He shouldn't have behaved like a belligerent child in the way that he did. Ms. A—Maka—already had enough trouble getting along with her students (let alone the teaching staff, and enough tension with him), and he really shouldn't have gone passive aggressive on her. Especially the bits at the end.

He slowly shuffled to the teacher's lounge with his brown bag in tow, regretting every second of his outburst. It was a bad time, a bad day, and a bad attitude, but that doesn't excuse that his action had hurt another co-worker. At least he had a few moments to himself—ah. Nope. No such thing. Maka was already there, sitting at her normal seat furthest away from the rest of the lounge by the window, light reflecting off the drops of tears on the table in front of her and on the half opened container of lasagna.

So there _was_ a place deeper than rock-bottom. Lovely.

Before Soul could back out quietly, Maka had already heard the door. She peeked quickly, then rubbed her face immediately.

"I—I can leave if you want."

"Yeah that'd be great, thanks."

"Uh. Ok. Alright. I'm just going to get my drink from the refrigerator first before going."

No response.

"Is—is that alright?"

"It's fine."

Permission granted, get the juice and go. Get the juice, and _go._ "Right. Cool." He tiptoed to the communal fridge. "Ok then… Uh… Listen—"

"I get it."

"Wait, I—"

"It's been a bad day and the class was loud. I let it escalate and now you're trying to grill me about it, and I'm saying that I get it. This is unnecessary so can you just get your drink and leave because that would be so great if you could—"

Soul plopped himself down on the seat next to her, slamming down his can of Arizona Green Tea with Honey and Ginseng and throwing his bag in front of him. He shot her a look and took a bite out of his BLT salad, homemade.

"Excuse you. Can you _go_?"

His chewing intensified.

"This is ridiculous. You're ridiculous. If you're not leaving then I—"

"Stay."

Maka paused, hovering over her chair with her container barely lifted off the table. "What?"

"Stay here and eat lunch." Soul swiped the side of his mouth with his pinky finger. "I heard you had a bad day; we can talk about it if you want. I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, too, so I guess we have something in common." To seal the deal, he slid over his M&M cookie in a Ziploc bag. It was a sacrifice, but it had to happen.

She was hesitant, but the cookie worked.

"My coffee machine broke," he continued as she sat back down, freeing her new treat from its plastic prison, "Found poop by the front gates again by stepping in it, ran a red light because the sunrise glare made it look yellow, almost got hit by a soccer mom this morning, wrongfully yelled at a co-worker during class time, and now she won't listen to my apologies. What's your story?"

"My alarm was out of batteries, woke up from a call from my dead beat dad who was asking for money again, coffee malfunctions, found a nest of baby spiders in my rearview window so I took a bus to school, heard some hot slanderous new gossip about myself from some science teachers, classroom was misbehaving, and before I could yell at them myself, I got chewed out by the newbie who spilled coffee over my favorite blazer on his first day at work in the most childish way like I was the one back in high school. And now I couldn't recognize an apology when it's handed to me." She took another bite of chewy goodness. "I also got tired of my own cooking."

Soul thought for a moment. "I can't help with all of those problems, but I can solve one right now." He pushed his salad to Maka while he reached for her own lunch.

"You already ate some of it though."

"A single forkful that didn't touch the lettuce after the first bite, yes you are right. Let's trade anyway."

Thus the exchange commenced.

They continued eating even as the rest of the teachers filed in, taking their regular tables as they stared openly at Soul's chosen spot for the day. No one ever took that seat beside Maka anyway, and that was fine because Soul continued to eat there for the rest of the year, switching lunches with her every day as they complained about their crappy lives- which became less crappy now that they found an ally within each other.


End file.
